


It's Easy to Promise (And Hard to Follow Through)

by Jess_B_Fossil



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Promises, Reunion, Romance, Sylvix Week 2019, Sylvixweek2019, coming to terms, kind of, learning to love, not really spoilers tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_B_Fossil/pseuds/Jess_B_Fossil
Summary: It's weird, what time can do to friendships. Oneshot, Sylvix. Day one of Sylvix Week.





	It's Easy to Promise (And Hard to Follow Through)

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't planning on participating in Sylvix Week 2019, purely because I didn't think I had the time but... here I am. 
> 
> Day One Prompts were: Childhood, Promises and Reunion. I couldn't pick between the three... so I did all three. :D

Sylvain’s mother is picky when it comes to allowing him friends. 

So when Felix is led in by his older brother, Sylvain is surprised. He’s not impressive, really. The boy is short, his inky hair falling across his forehead, long and wildly unkempt. His clothes are obvious hand-me-downs from Glenn, and he trips slightly in boots that are just a little bit too big. 

Yeah, he’s surprised. This boy being led to him isn’t a shy-faced girl, giggling stupidly as she tries to sow the seeds of a _ prosperous future _. One look at Sylvain’s mother, and he can tell that she isn’t pleased. Her mouth is tugged to one corner, barely containing a sour frown.

She’d much rather Felix be a cute girl instead. Sylvain just knows. Even as young as they are, she always impresses the importance of a_ future_ _wife_. Creating bonds now that can be strengthened later. A good, strong woman, who will bear a good strong Gautier in return. 

It’s repulsive, Sylvain thinks.

“Lady Gautier,” Glenn says easily, with a simple bow. He’s not that much older in the grand scheme of things, but old enough that his words are smooth. Sylvain’s mother smiles back almost immediately, always impressed with propriety. He holds an arm out, motioning Felix forward. “Felix Hugo Fradarius,” Glenn says proudly. “This is the Lady Gautier, and her son.”

Felix doesn’t move though, looking at Sylvain warily. So he takes a step forward instead. 

“Sylvain Jose Gautier,” he says smoothly, a tone that he hasn’t _ quite _ perfected yet, but has been known to soothe decently. 

But Felix frowns instead-- something that Sylvain isn’t used to. It’s a rare thing, when someone doesn’t succumb to his charm. 

“I don’t like him,” Felix says, shuffling behind Glenn. 

“Don’t be rude, Felix,” Glenn replies, carefully maneuvering his brother back. “Father and I have business to attend to, so you will spend your time here.” He pauses and then adds, “Otherwise, it’s _ tea time _ with Ingrid.”

At that, Felix makes a face. “_ Gross _,” he imparts, and Sylvain’s opinion of this boy is instantly changed. 

Yes, Ingrid was particularly gross. They could bond over that. 

Later on in the day, Sylvain asks about it. They’re sitting at a pond nestled into the west corner of the Gautier estate, shoes pulled off and pant cuffs rolled up. Sylvain has learned that Felix is two years younger, making him barely eight. 

“_ All girls _ are gross,” Felix tells him, kicking at the water. It’s cold, even for them. “Not just Ingrid.” A pause. “She’s... I suppose… not as bad. As most of them. I just don’t like the tea she brews.” 

Sylvain laughs at that. “What do you mean all girls?”

Felix makes a face. Maybe it’s because Sylvain’s older and wiser, or because of his mother’s pushing, but not all girls are bad. Some are even cute. 

“I meant what I said, girls are _ gross _.”

“You’ll have to marry one some day, you know.”

“_ Ew,” _ is his immediately reply. “No. Glenn will marry-- Ingrid, of all people. And I’ll--” He pauses again, to think about what he says next. “I’ll do whatever I want, I suppose.”

It’s Sylvain’s turn to frown, and the other boy catches it. When Felix asks, Sylvain says, “I have an older brother, but it’s _ me _ who will carry on the line. I carry a crest, you know. Means I’m worth something. It’s uh… expected.”

Felix blinks, thinking about the words. “That seems… _ unfair _.”

It’s something that Sylvain has also thought many times, but never voiced. And no one has ever told _ agreed _ on it, so it makes the moment awkward. Sylvain changes the subject. He reaches out and tugs at the other boy’s clothes. “What has you wearing Glenn’s clothes anyway?”

Felix turns bright red, pushing him away. 

…

“I knew I’d find you out here.” 

Sylvain freezes. His hands tighten around the railing as he looked below. He wants to be alone. He doesn’t want to be bothered. But… But--

He also doesn’t want to ignore Felix. 

Things have been weird for them, ever since they’ve come to the academy. It’s strange, what time apart can do for a friendship. 

Sylvain had wandered into the monastery, expecting the same short and unruly child he’d grown up with. Shy, with a round face prone to turning red at any instant. Instead, he’d found a wiry, scowling and angry wolf, clinging onto the memory of his dead brother and long-lost _ Dima _. 

And he’s not round and pudgy anymore, he’s all sharp angles and squared shoulders. Lean muscles that peek out from his clothes when he tugs his shirt up to wipe at his face, and--

Sylvain swallows and ignores _ that _ train of thought, pointedly ignoring the opportunity to turn to Felix. No, things are different, _ so _ different, and he doesn’t know how to approach it. Or if he ever will. No, it’s easier to pretend to be dumb and stupid, and flirt with anything on legs. He’ll fulfill his obligation. He’ll find a girl, settle down, have children, _ please his parents _.

“Sylvain,” Felix says, his tone quiet. Gentler. Different than usual. 

Warmth spreads through Sylvain. No, he wants to please Felix instead, and it’s damn near painful how much the thought tugs at his entire being. 

“I want to be alone,” he says instead. 

Felix moves to stand next to him. He raises a hand to his shoulder, but stops, fingertips hovering over his uniform. Eventually he drops it, and Sylvain lets loose a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Have you forgotten our promise?” Felix asks. He never brings it up. Sylvain does often, because he lives in the past and not the present, dwelling on his fond memories of. Things like Felix, and that stupid fucking promise. 

“Felix--” he starts, and hates how _ impersonal _ it sounds, but the other man cuts him off.

“You _ scared _ me out there,” Felix hisses. “You just _ rushed _ up to him, you didn’t _ think-- _ You could have--” Felix cuts himself off, growling lowly instead. 

“Fe,” Sylvain says, and finally turns to him. It’s Felix’s turn to refuse to meet his gaze, his lip caught between his teeth. He still wears Glenn’s hand-me-downs from his academy days, but Felix has filled them out, with his lithe form.

They’ve never been good at this, Sylvain thinks. They’ve never been good at expressing their feelings, and definitely not with each other. 

“I know he was your brother,” Felix finally says, “But he wasn’t worth it.”

Sylvain laughs bitterly. “Worth _ what _?”

“Worth _ the risk _.” 

Finally Felix meets his gaze, and Sylvain sees what he’s _ always _ wanted to see there. “Worth _ losing you _ ,” he continues. His eyes sparkle, and he’s not sure if they’re unshed tears or what, but he knows what _ else _ it is. Because he feels the same, and Sylvain isn’t sure whether to be happy, or angry, or sad because _ this _ couldn’t be a thing. No matter how much he wanted, he couldn’t love--

The thought is wild, really. When had _ this _ turned into _ love _?

Sylvain reaches out finally, pulling the shorter man to his chest. He tucks him there, pressing his cheek against the crown of his head, breathing in the scent of him. Holding him. 

“Remember your fucking promise,” Felix says against his chest. 

Were it a better night, Sylvain might have laughed. But instead, he thinks of another one, a very, _ very _ long time ago. It’s not Felix by his side, but Glenn, and he’s about to go and fulfill his duty as a knight. Sylvain pledged another promise that night, one that he’s never told Felix about. 

It’s the one were he promises Glenn that he will protect him forever, even if it means sacrificing his life. It’s not that their childhood swear means nothing, it’s that Felix’s life is more important-- more so than Sylvain’s entire being.

Even if it means rushing into danger and killing his own brother. Even if it means dying first to save the other.

Still, Sylvain shushes Felix, and promises him again. He promises that they will die together. 

He hates how hollow it feels.

…

Sylvain is face first in the mud. He doesn’t mean to lose his balance, but there’s an arrow in his side and while it’s not going to kill him, _ Goddess above it stings _.

This was a stupid idea, he thinks for what seems like the millionth time. It’s been a constant thought the entire journey there. He’s probably the only one who remembers the stupid promise. He’s absolutely the only one stupid enough to follow it through.

Because there isn’t a person alive, who’s as dumb as he is and filled to the brim with raw hope. But when you are five years deep into a thoughtless war that you’re losing, hope is all you have. 

And now Sylvain was losing it.

He pulls himself up with a grunt. He’s lost his horse, but Garreg Mach isn’t far. He can probably make it on foot, if he manages to avoid any further confrontation. Still, moving is harder than he would care to admit and the ache in his side is getting worse.

Really, he should have paid more attention when Mercie tried to teach him basic healing spells. And he _ definitely _ shouldn’t have skipped class, when they studied it proper. 

He hears the arrow before he sees it, whizzing past his ear. And then another. He braces himself for the eventual hit-- only to have it knocked away by the glint of metal. There’s a low curse in a biting tone, and the flash of a deep scowl. Inky blue hair and deep set circles under eyes and-- 

Sylvain’s head snaps up, just as fingers clasp around his arm harshly. 

“Are you _ mad _?” Felix snaps. “Such a fucking idiot,” he continues, yanking him into the brush. Yeah, there’s better cover here, and Sylvain feels like an idiot for not considering it. But his mind has been on other things through the years, and he finds himself more and more distracted and--

Felix does the thing you’re supposed to _ not _ do, and that’s to yank the arrow out. Sylvain yelps and Felix calls him something he’d prefer to not repeat, but then he’s feels the warmth of white magic. The wound knits back together, leaving behind only a dull ache. 

“Fe--”

“It’s like you _ want _ to get yourself killed,” Felix snaps at him. He pulls back. “Stay here, you oaf. I’ll deal with you later.”

And then he’s gone, before Sylvain can even thank him. Typical Felix. 

He also doesn’t listen to him, reentering the fray of battle almost immediately. Typical Sylvain. 

Once the bandits are defeated, and everyone is reunited at Garreg Mach, Sylvain finds himself outside the monastery proper once again. 

Felix finds him there, both of them avoiding everyone else in the Mess Hall, sharing bread and drink. 

“Felix--” Sylvain starts with. The other man punches him across the face. Sylvain staggers, hand finding his jaw as he hisses in pain. “What in the Goddess’ name--”

“I said I would deal with you later, and here I am. Have you forgotten already, or is it that the war has dulled your fucking common sense?”

Sylvain rubs at his jaw, knowing there will be an ugly bruise. 

But then there are gentle fingers at his jawline, and the warmth of that familiar magic again. Sylvain wants to melt into the touch. This time, he looks at Felix, _ really looks _ at him. He’s not much taller, but he looks older, tireder, _ barely hanging on _. 

_ Lonely _. That’s a look that Sylvain feels in his bones. 

He reaches up and grabs the other man’s wrist, and Felix pauses. “I’m sorry,” Sylvain says. It’s heavy and it feels like he’s apologizing for everything he’s ever done, not just for earlier that day. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then act like it,” Felix snaps. When he finishes his spell, he doesn’t pull away. 

Sylvain rubs his thumb along the skin of Felix’s wrist, and it’s weirdly intimate-- but it’s also weird that Felix allows it. Finally Felix moves. He pulls Sylvain against him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Sylvain rearranges himself, awkwardly holding him, fingers gripping at his shirt. 

He’s not wearing Glenn’s clothes anymore, he’s wearing his own. Felix is finally his _ own man _ , chasing after his _ own dreams _. And he’s hugging Sylvain close, fingers threaded into his clothes like he’s afraid he’ll disappear the moment he let’s go. 

Literally, Sylvain has dreamt this for years. He’s imagined a similar scenario of reuniting many times over, the idea of it keeping him warm at night and-- 

He should stop thinking about that. 

Felix says something, but it’s muffled by Sylvain’s shirt. He pushes the shorter man back slightly. “What was that?”

“I missed you,” Felix says. 

“Yeah,” Sylvain agrees. 

“I would prefer it not take _years_ to see each other again.”Sylvain presses a hand into Felix’s hair, smoothing it down. He likes it this length, even if it’s oily and unwashed. “Yeah,” he agrees again. 

And then Felix hesitates. It’s weird, because he never does that, he _ never _ toes the line of do-I-do-this-or-not. Sylvain watches him quietly, waiting. 

“Don’t do it again,” Felix demands. 

“Yeah,” Sylvain replies. The words are as empty as his promise to Felix though, because nowadays he doesn’t _ want _ to die, even if it's with Felix by his side. 

Felix must see something in his face, because he then says, “I’m serious, you buffoon. I can’t very well _ love _ you, if you’re fucking dead.”

It takes a moment for the words to click into place, and it’s mostly because Sylvain doesn’t expect to hear them. Felix is red with embarrassment, but he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t claim it to be a joke. 

“Well, this isn’t quite the reunion I expected,” Sylvain finally says. Felix huffs, about to turn around and leave him, but Sylvain reaches out to grasp his wrist. “Wait, I’m only teasing.”

“It’s not funny,” Felix snaps. 

“No, it’s not,” Sylvain agrees. Felix’s hand is rough and calloused in his own, but he loves the feel of it. “Hey Fe, can we make a new promise? I don’t really want to die with you anymore. I’d much rather live.”

“_ Idiot _ ,” Felix replies. But it’s not a no. He doesn’t _ refuse _.

Sylvain supposes that it’s not a bad start.

They kiss for the first time that night, at the edge by the Goddess Tower. It’s awkward and sloppy, and Felix has no idea what he’s doing but-- Yeah, _ yeah _, Sylvain loves this. Loves him. 

When he pulls back, Felix looks at him, and for the first time since they were children, it’s not a guarded expression. No, he wears his affection right there on his fucking sleeve. Sylvain reaches out, brushing his bangs back. He smooths his fingers along the high cheekbone.

_ Remember your fucking promise _, Felix had said to him once, many years before. 

Sylvain smiles. 

He will. 

**Author's Note:**

> Have questions? A burning need for answers? Have a story idea? Just want to talk Sylvix? Don't forget to check out my [Tumblr](https://missmarquin.tumblr.com/), and drop an ask!


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